“Neither is this.” She touched the soft dark hair on his chest.
“So you don’t want me to shave it all off?”
“Why would you do that? I love it. Little boys have bare chests. Men have hair. Hunky cowboys have just the right amount,” she answered.
“Do I get to be in that latter category?”
“Oh, yes, you do.” She rolled up on her toes and kissed him. “Holy shit, Sawyer!”
“What?”
“Wet kisses are downright…well, they shoot desire through a body like adrenaline in the flight-or-fight mode.”
He chuckled. “You going to fight or run?”
She giggled. “I’m not going anywhere but to the barn for hay, cowboy.”
“Not to bed first with that burst of desire?”
She handed him the conditioner. “The cattle would starve plumb to death if we went back to bed, because we wouldn’t get out of it all day. Now when summer gets here and they’re put out to pasture on green grass and we don’t have to feed twice a day, that’s another story.”
“But then”—he turned her around so the shower could rinse the conditioner from her hair—“we’ll have plowing, sowing, clearing land, and all that.”
“And then, like you said, we’re going to hire some help. Got any relatives hiding down south who might want to move to Burnt Boot?”
“For ranchin’, or for the store and bar?”
“Ranchin’, and maybe some evenings in the bar,” she answered.
“I’ll check around. That reminds me, I never did get around to callin’ my folks. Did you?”
She smiled up at him. “I’m naked in a shower with you, and you think of your mother? What’s wrong with this picture?”
“You mentioned relatives. My mind went to some cousins who might be interested in a job, and then I thought about what their mamas would think of them coming to Burnt Boot. My mother sent me up here to spy on Finn. She didn’t expect me to stay.”
“Neither did mine when I told her I’d moved here.” Jill stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. “And, darlin’, my mama was the last thing on my mind last night. When we get near a bed, I don’t think of anything but you.”
He chuckled. “Well, then I will always remember to keep a bed right handy.”
* * *
On Monday morning, Polly said if she had to stay in the house one more day she was going to climb the walls. So Gladys loaded her up in the truck, took her to the store, and told Sawyer and Jill they didn’t have to come in until after lunch.
“Aunt Gladys, why don’t we come on in when we finish feeding, and you can take Polly for a ride?” Jill asked.
“Give me that phone,” Polly said loudly.
“I could hear what you said, girl. I don’t want to go for a ride. I want to talk to people. I want them to come in the store, and hell, I don’t even care if they get into a knock-down drag-out fight right here,” Polly said. “I don’t like this getting-old shit.”
Jill grinned. “Well, Auntie, it’s not for wimps. Only the strong get to do it.”
“You always could out argue a stop sign. But it won’t work today. You and that handsome Sawyer spend the day together. After lunch, my ass. I’m staying right here until closing time, whether Gladys likes it or not. I hope everybody in town knows I’m here and comes in to visit.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m not arguing anymore,” Jill said.
She visualized a long, lazy afternoon in the bedroom, but it didn’t happen. Right after they finished their morning routine, a heifer decided to give birth to a calf that was too big for her. That required an hour of getting her into a barn out of the cold, where the calf would have a better chance of living, and then pulling the bull calf out when he was born butt-first. They’d barely gotten their hands cleaned up and made sure the new little fellow could stand and nurse when the phone rang.
Jill fetched it from her pocket and answered without checking the ID.
“You win,” Polly said. “I’m pooped, and if I have to hear another person tell me how their great-aunt or uncle or neighbor’s kid broke their leg, I’m going to throw them through the plate glass window. Gladys made me call you. Some friend she is. She wouldn’t even do it for me, since I threw such a fit. If you and Sawyer will come on to the store, I’m ready to go home and get a nap.”
“We’ll be there soon as we go home and get the blood off us,” Jill said.
“Shit, girl! Who’d you kill, a Gallagher or a Brennan?”
“Neither one. We just pulled a calf. Tell Aunt Gladys it’s a bull, and mama and baby are just fine. We’ve got them in a stall in the barn for the next few days, though, with this cold weather,” Jill answered.
“Take your time but not too much. I’m worn plumb out,” Polly said.
* * *
Sawyer spent most of the afternoon dozing with his hat over his eyes. Jill got bored with chatting via her tablet with her mother and went to the kitchen to bake cookies. At four, she waved a paper plate with half a dozen chocolate chip cookies under his nose.
“Wake up and smell the goodies,” she whispered.
He grabbed her arm. The two front chair legs popped down on the floor, and he pulled her into his lap and tossed his hat on the counter all in one movement. “I’d love fresh-baked cookies, but I’d give them up for a kiss.”
“Today is your lucky day, cowboy. You can have both.” She set the cookies on the counter beside his hat and plastered herself to his chest.
The temperature in the store jacked up at least ten degrees when their lips touched. He forgot about cookies. She couldn’t think of anything but the burning desire for more than kisses.
Finally, he drew back, picked her up, and set her on the floor. “It’s after four, darlin’, and it’s starting to rain. Why don’t you let me take care of the ranchin’ this afternoon? I don’t think there’s going to be many people getting out in this weather.”
“Sounds good to me…what in the hell is that?” She pointed out the window.
Sawyer followed the angle, but nothing interested him as much as kissing her. She was cute when her lips were all bee-stung with kisses, her hair was tangled, and she had that bedroom look in her eyes.
“Looks like flowers for someone. Maybe Polly shouldn’t have left so quick.” He picked up a cookie.
“These are scrumptious, but they take a far second to kissing you,” he mumbled.
“Mercy, Sawyer. Someone must love Polly a lot to send a bouquet that big.”
Two people got out, one lady holding an umbrella over the other one as she carried an enormous vase of red roses into the store. The flowers didn’t totally escape the rain, but the few that had been kissed by drops looked even better for it.
“Jill Cleary?” The lady eyed Sawyer up and down as if she’d like to jump over the counter and pounce on him.
“No, that would be Jill over there.” He nodded toward the other end of the counter.
“Are you sure they aren’t for Polly Cleary?” Jill asked.
“No, ma’am. The card says Jill. Nasty, cold rain out there, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said.
Jill tore into the envelope and groaned. “Shit!”
“And I thought you’d like them. My heart is hurt.” Sawyer clamped a hand over his chest.
“You know very well you didn’t send this shit. You would have sent daisies, not roses. These are from Quaid Brennan.”
“Want me to throw them out into the rain?”
“Maybe. Yes. No. I’ll think about it. Maybe Aunt Polly would like them after all.” She smiled.
Thirty minutes later a different florist van arrived with a long, slim box. Sawyer had no doubts what was inside that one, and he didn’t even want to know who they were from. Dammit all to hell on a silver platter! Jill had gotten two dozen roses on the very day he’d asked Finn to pick up a bouquet of those brightly colored daisies he’d seen at the Walmart store. He’d even given him the key to the bunkhouse so he could put them in his bedroom and surprise her with them.